


Eternal Recurrence

by MjrGenMatt



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MjrGenMatt/pseuds/MjrGenMatt
Summary: Decades after the fall of the Institute, Jack lives his life as a mercenary for hire to avoid the behemoth of his father's shadow. There isn't much that moves him, and even less that interests him in being the type of savior that the Commonwealth knew just a few years ago. But when an unknown force threatens what he does hold dear and connects him to the mysterious disappearance of the Sole Survivor, he finds himself pulled into a conflict no less dire. With faces both old and new at his side, Jack must confront the sins of the past in order to save the future.A post-Institute destruction tale featuring a few OCs with ties to established characters, and at least one deus ex machina in the form of a bloodthirsty monster.
Relationships: Male Sole Survivor/Piper Wright, Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	1. The More Things Change

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my way-too-late pet project! Yet another idea of mine that I've had for years and slowly made a reality, and now finally posting. I have a good idea of how this whole thing will pan out already, so if y'all are still interested in reading some good ol' fashioned Fallout 4 based content, then check this out! I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

Smoke hung over the room in a thick blanket, its oppressive stench permeating everything it could snake its way into. This, combined with years of wear and near-constant fighting resulted in ugly wall coverings that were stained a sickly yellow, peeling in several spots to reveal the aged concrete beneath. The light from the overhead lamp flickered constantly, its bulb on the cusp of losing the last trace of life, much like the world it inhabited. By all accounts, the building should be long abandoned and left to return to the earth from whence it was built.

And yet, noise bounced off the storied walls as the bar’s patrons yelled, sang, and drank until they forgot how long it’d been since the time they were last drunk. An old man sat behind the bar, his tired eyes locked on a glass as he wiped it clean for the fourth time that half hour. Once sufficiently satisfied that he’d made it worthy of housing more of the local swill, he chanced a glance around. 

Half a dozen men and women occupied the decrepit couches, laughing heartily as a particularly brave soul attempted to down the contents of his mug in one go. The result was near-instant rapid ejection of his stomach’s contents, consisting of three more mugs worth of Bobrov’s reserve and a bag of expired chips. The man sighed; another night to be capped with tedious floor cleaning plaguing his mind. 

A child of one of the patrons stared at the perfectly preserved pie slice adorning the uppermost level of the Port-o-Diner, face glued to the glass and hands pressed up against the dome as if it was liable to get up and leave from neglect.

The lone chair opposite the couches was occupied by a blonde woman whose once vibrant frost blue eyes had been reduced to a dull matte color after years of less than stellar treatment by these same bar patrons. Sitting on the arm of the chair was a black-haired man with sunken eyes, a tired smile on his face as he spoke to the woman. He noticed the bartender watching and waved cordially, the woman following suit. The bartender smiled and returned the gesture, afterwards holding up an outstretched hand to signal that her break was nearly over. She nodded, turned her gaze back to the man, kissed him warmly, and stood up to see him off.

Vadim couldn’t help but smile; Travis and Scarlett had come so far over the years. He adopted a look of thoughtful remembrance as the memories of the forming of their relationship flooded back. He briefly wondered what had become of the man responsible for bringing them together; it had been so many years since they’d spoken.

He looked to the person sitting on the barstool set furthest into the corner. A glass of bourbon was held precariously in his right hand, ice quickly diluting the drink as a result of the heat in the room. In his left, he pinched a California Sunlight (so said the wrapper) between his index and middle finger. As Vadim’s eyes went to the man’s face, the cigar’s lit end met the ashtray below, spent ash collected by cool ceramic.

“Something on your mind?” The man spoke as smoke billowed from his mouth.

Vadim shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to stop himself from staring. His voice picked up an edge more gravelly than normal, a product of the drink and the age of its owner. “Eh, thinking about old times.”

A single dry chuckle escaped the man’s lips as he raised the glass to them. He took a sip before speaking. “Careful, don’t hurt yourself. Don’t know what Diamond City would do without you and your toxic elixirs. They might actually get some work done, rebuild old world society, cure cancer.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Vadim let loose a boisterous laugh. The sound waves echoed throughout the bar, earning more than one annoyed glance. “This is why you are favorite customer, even if you don’t come give me your money very often anymore. Much like your father used to be my favorite customer! Heh, the tales we could tell…”

The man hummed in acknowledgement, eyes never straying from the faded baseball on the bar sign against the wall.

Noticing the distinct lack of desire to continue the subject, Vadim pivoted. “That reminds me, how is your mother? It has been some time since she came to drink some poor  _ ublyudok  _ under table!”

The patron took a drag of the cigar. He blew a ring and watched it slowly dissipate into the air. “Same as ever, I assume. You’d be a fool to think the years have slowed mom down at all. Heard that just the other day she nearly broke some guy’s arm for catcalling her one too many times. Guard came by to check on the noise, took one look at her, kept walking.”

“I have no doubt of that, my friend! She was always little firecracker when she graced my bar. Next time you see her, tell her that Vadim misses her dearly!” Vadim adopted a sad tone to accentuate just how broken up he truly was.

At last, the other man cracked what passed for a smile. “Sure thing, old man.”

The conversation died, Vadim turning his gaze to a customer coming to the bar to place an order. The man tuned out the surrounding clamor, allowing his vices to hold his undivided attention once again. He was no stranger to spending his time alone at the Dugout Inn, making use of his imposing figure and sour-looking attitude to keep most of the rabble at bay.

As a result of the total of several years of this routine, he’d developed a reputation of ‘someone not to fuck with.’ The only souls that dared disturb him were those too full of drunken confidence for their own good, and the occasional drifter in search of a partner to warm their bed. Both types tended to leave the bar disappointed, though one more often than the other, and for entirely different reasons.

The damp heat became too much for him, and he removed his navy jacket, resting it on the next stool over. A short sleeved black shirt tucked into his pants was all that remained, save for a chain holding an unseen trinket beneath the fabric. A tattoo was half shown on his left arm; a skull set into a clock with Roman numerals bordering the edges. Between the numerals were abstract curling lines, intertwining amongst themselves all throughout the clock. A thick blindfold covered the sockets of the skull, riddled with tears and scorch marks.

The bell on the door jingled, signaling another new body to try to drain the ever-stocked stills. The man paid it no mind, keeping his eyes locked on the heavily weathered bar. It wasn’t until the newcomer dumped his jacket onto the floor and dragged the stool closer to his, banging on the bar and asking Vadim for a glass of rum, that he tore his eyes away from the wood. He knew the mannerisms, the sound of the voice, even the footsteps. The woman slapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking him in greeting as she attacked the glass of alcohol with reckless fervor.

“Nat, we’ve talked about this, I get very upset when you dirty my clothes. Now I’ll have to— “

Natalie Wright raised a finger as she emptied the glass, wasting no time in doing so before slamming the glass down and asking for another. She sighed deeply, as if having waited all day for that drink, and took the time to shift her long black hair behind her shoulders and resettle it into a bun. The sides of her head were shaved, fading into nothing as it travelled past her ears. This revealed her plaid buttoned shirt, left open just a step above what might be considered to be publicly indecent.

“Never lacking for confidence, are we?”

She stopped and smiled widely. “Aww, Jack, you know me so well!”

“I would hope so, since we’re apparently related.” Jack shook his head before returning to his cigar.

“So they keep saying. How the hell are ya, kid? You drop off the face of the earth for a couple months and just show back up like it’s nothing! I mean, you do you my man, but your mom’s gonna kill you if you keep disappearing on everyone without a word.”

“You know me, been busy rescuing kittens from trees and helping old ladies like you cross the streets.”

Nat swatted his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Ass. Well whatever, glad to see your ass occupying that stool again. Damn thing was starting to get lonely.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

They shared a laugh as they settled in.

“So, what have you _ actually _ been up to, Jack? People ask me like I would know, as if you would’ve told me! Not that I was concerned you weren’t coming back this time, I know you can handle yourself.”

Jack shrugged, taking another sip before answering. “Odd jobs. Security for a trader, overgrown pest control, even did some debt collection. Whatever lines the pockets.”

Nat hummed. “Well, I guess there’s  _ worse _ things for you to be doing. Never pegged you as the loan shark type, though, how’d you end up with that?”

“Got talking with one of the shopkeeps about their usual traffic; guy mentioned a couple deadbeats that opened a tab and then skipped town. Offered a hundred caps each for their debts or their hides, so I took it.”

She turned to Jack, rested a hand on her thigh, and scanned his face. She didn’t answer him until he looked back at her and asked. “What?”

“It’s just odd, hearing you talk about killing people so willy-nilly like that. You weren’t always so blah about it.”

Jack scoffed. “Look I don’t kill them straight up, Nat. That’s the last resort, and I haven’t had to go there yet. Don’t worry, I’m not turning into the next Pickman.”

Nat leaned back over. “Alright, I believe you. Hell, I’m just glad to see you whenever you head our way.”

“Helps that the company’s good.” He clinked his glass against Nat’s. “And what have you been doing?”

An hour later Jack and Nat found themselves sitting in the comfortable atmosphere as the night soldiered on. In between stories, they were content to merely sit and watch the crowd as it grew in number and recycled like the cells making up the lifeblood of the bar.

Jack always made a habit of keeping tabs on his surroundings, even when distracted with drink and company. He watched with mild curiosity as a tall, broad man stumbled in with all the grace of a Brahmin in a bathtub and floated from place to place, trying his hand at convincing any woman who would give him the time of day that he wasn’t a total waste of human life.

Three times this happened before he sauntered over to a woman sitting alone at the bar giving off an air not unlike Jack had been not too long ago – ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ At a height at least a full head below the drunken man, she was having a more difficult time forcing him to leave; words failing to have the intended effect. After one too many unwanted advances, she snapped and shoved the man, causing him to stumble into a couch and fall to the ground, drink becoming an impromptu shower.

The attitude in the room sobered up in an instant, everyone quieting as the drunk bolted upright.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” Pushing up his sleeves, he advanced toward the much smaller woman. Using his brutish size, he held the woman’s arms at bay and pushed her into the bar. Glasses shattered as they were knocked to the floor, liquid going with them.

A stool loudly scraped against the stone floor, sending all sets of eyes to the source of the second disturbance. Jack stood stock still next to his seat, fists clenched. The stare he leveled at the other man threatened to cut through the wall of the building if his eyes burned any brighter. Nat, standing by with an equally incensed edge, gave a low whistle. “You fucked up now, you ugly shit.”

“She said no, jackass. You should leave.” Jack’s voice boomed off the walls with an unmatched authority.

The man marched over to Jack, face inches from his own. He pointed a greasy finger at Jack. “And who the hell are you, pipsqueak, her fuckin’ bodyguard?!”

“Doesn’t matter. Get out of here.”

The man snarled in anger, refusing to back down at Jack’s challenge. His arm reared back, preparing a widely angled punch as he launched himself forward. Jack snared the man’s wrist, spun him around, and muscled his arm behind his back, the drunken man’s face being introduced to the bar.

“Back off and get out, or I’m breaking the arm.”

Between ragged, booze-drenched breaths, he swore at Jack and struggled against his grip. “Fuck… you.”

The bar patrons bore witness to a slew of nauseating sounds, topped off by the sight of the man’s now-broken arm. The man howled in anguish, tears sliding down his face.

Nat put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, causing his gaze to snap to her. Her chestnut eyes bored into his. Jack’s anger abated, enough to convince himself to release the man. The body hit the floor with a loud thud, whimpering all the while. The room was otherwise silent; everyone looked at the victim with equal parts pity and disdain.

Jack snagged a fistful of the sniveling man’s shirt and dragged him toward the exit corridor before shoving the door open, unoiled hinges shrieking in protest, and tossing the man outside. Nat heard the door slam shut, and the room gradually returned to its normal state. Jack walked over to the woman that the drunk had been harassing. “You alright?” He asked, low and quiet.

She broke out of the reverie she’d been in since Jack’s intervention, “Y-yeah. He didn’t even really touch me. Thank you.”

Jack nodded and returned to his seat. He resumed his progress on his glass, as if nothing had happened, Nat joining him. “Nice work, white knight.”

“Ain’t going to stand for that shit. Maybe if he’s lucky, Doc Sun won’t make him wait till morning.” Jack tossed back his glass.

Nat tilted her chin toward the far wall. “Isn’t that the good doctor over there?”

He spared a glance to where she looked. Sure enough, there sat the elderly man laughing with his whole chest. Jack shrugged. “Shame.”

The bar resumed its raucous nature, forgetting about the interruption entirely. Vadim kept the drink flowing, and the party at the Dugout continued well into the night.


	2. The More They Stay the Same

Jack heaved a heavy sigh as he dragged his feet to the landing of the staircase. He always hated the climb to the third level of Diamond City’s southeastern high rise. He knew the risk of putting off going home in favor of the bar and expected nothing but the worst. Jack stared at the polished metal home, mentally preparing himself for the consequences.

She’d kill him for that…

Resigning to his fate, he turned the knob and pushed his way inside. The room fell to an eerie silence after the latch clicked into place. Jack removed his coat and placed it on the rack by the door before taking a tentative step forward. “Hello?”

A soft click and an emphatic whirr came from around the corner. Wheels spun up, and a set of red lights shone into the entrance hallway. A towering figure with multi-barreled weapons on each arm sped into the room, stopping just short of running over Jack’s toes. Spiked shields protruded from each leg and shoulder, electricity arced, and sparks jumped from tesla coils on its back, and a caged head rested atop the machine.

“Unidentified intruder, you have entered a restricted space. Leave the premises at once or you will be reduced to ash.” 

The machine was a full two feet taller than Jack, and he was forced to reach upward to push the gun away from this face. He whistled. “You certainly don’t get any less scary, buddy. The townsfolk must _love_ coming up here.”

A short burst of static shot from the modified robot. “Registered user 7274 recognized. Welcome home, Jack.” The machine wheeled back into the alcove from which it came.

Jack smiled and shook his head. He looked toward the end of the hallway and walked towards the open door second from the last. As he approached he heard furious typing, keys screaming in agony as they received unwarranted punishment in place of the recipient of the heated message.

“Careful, mom, you’ll break your special terminal again if you aren’t careful.”

The woman in the chair continued, as if she’d failed to hear him speak at all. Jack leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and waited. He checked his watch. Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds passed before he heard a button slammed with an air of finality. The woman at the desk closed her work and pressed the large red button near the screen.

“Bitch.”

It was an exclamation of pure disdain, practiced over the course of many years. She shoved her chair from the desk, causing the nameplate resting on it to slide forward.

Piper Wright.

She stood up, finally looking at Jack standing in the door. She opened her arms in a wide sweep. “Well, look who finally returns! Man, who teaches kids standards these days? Your parents should be ashamed!”

Jack shrugged. “They’ve got plenty to be pissed at me about, they can add it to my tab.”

Piper dropped the charade and smiled, walking over to Jack before taking him into a hug. He bent down to wrap his arms around her, smiling as she squeezed his larger frame.

“Welcome back, Jacky.” She rubbed his back as he patted hers. She released her son and resumed her relaxed posture. “It’s been a couple months, Sport, what brings you here?”

“What, can’t a guy just visit his family every now and then? I’m hurt, mom.”

She scoffed. “From what Natalie tells me, you’re doing more than just that.”

“Ah hell, did she already go telling everyone about the smackdown at the bar last night?”

Piper tilted her head. “The _bar?_ Jacky, you didn’t go to the Dugout and harass Vadim _without_ me, did you?”

Jack failed to contain the wince that contorted his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, chewing softly on his cheek. “I-it wasn’t… I mean, Nat caught me on the way in, and— “

She waved a hand. “I’m grounding you both for that. Jeez, a kid leaves the cushy life of Diamond City for a couple years and loses all his manners.” Piper snapped her fingers. “Speaking of which, what’s all this I hear about some vigilante going around popping grapes belonging to people on both ends of the moral spectrum, huh?”

Jack did a double take, not immediately answering. He cleared his throat. “Look, a cap’s a cap, and they haven’t been coming as easily lately. Uncle Mac always told me that the best thing a merc could do was act without hesitation when a contract’s involved. Not sure why he told that to an eight-year-old, but it ended up being pretty relevant.”

His mother scoffed and folded her arms. “Of _course_ he did. Should’ve kicked him in the balls if he came within ten feet of you. But Jack, you could’ve come back here and made perfectly blood-free money. Why start killing people who don’t deserve it in the name of some scumbag who’ll probably OD on Psycho within a couple weeks anyway?”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “You think I wanted to slink back home like that, when I’d already chosen to give it up the first time? Besides, I wanted to be my own man, and do things beyond what you could’ve _handed_ to me.”

“That doesn’t excuse _assassinations_ in today’s Commonwealth, Jack— “

“I’m just doing what I need to do to keep the food on my table, _mom_ .” He snapped at her. “I’m not proud of everything that I’ve been doing, but who can say they always are? I bet you and dad weren’t always goddamned _golden angels_! What right do you have to judge me?”

Jack finally took a breath, suddenly realizing the step forward into an aggressive stance and tone he’d taken, looming over Piper. She stared up at him with a look that he’d seen only a few times before. Piper wasn’t scared of him; she’d been yelled at by men far more dangerous than her son and lived to talk about it. Her expression was one of mild disappointment. 

Piper sighed at him. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

Jack took a step back, “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— “

“You’re right, your father and I weren’t perfect. But we tried our best to make a difference in the world, so that you, and everyone else, could have better opportunities, ones that didn’t involve _killing people_ for profit.”

Jack was silent, refusing to look at his mother. He knew she was right, she usually was.

“You and Ronnie both, you were always such rebellious kids. A normal life was never enough for you two. I thought Carla was going to blow a fuse when she told me that he wanted to quit school. Hell, I just about did too when you told me the same thing…” She trailed off, lazily shrugging. “But your father never doubted or judged you, either of you. I guess Nate rubbed off on me in that aspect too, because deep down,” Piper looked into his eyes, “maybe I didn’t either.”

Jack shuffled uncomfortably under his mother’s soft expression. “How come… how come you never remarried, ma?”

Piper let out a sigh. “To be honest, I’m surprised the question came this late — I’ve been dreading it for years. I dunno, I guess there wasn’t any particular reason. I never met someone that was as important to me as your father was, though I guess I never tried. I doubt any man in the Commonwealth could compare… Nate was—” Her voice hitched as she choked up. “Nate was special. You’d never believe our story if you didn’t already know.”

Jack took Piper into his arms and held her in silence. He waited as she allowed herself to cry, something he’d only seen his mother do on a few other occasions. He felt tears pricking at his eyes as well.

“I miss him…” Piper whispered.

“I miss him too mom. I don’t think about him often enough, anymore.”

She sniffled. “He really was a good man. He did a lot of good things for a lot of people. But, since he’s gone, I just have to remember how much I still have because of him – a happy life, exciting memories, tons of great friends… and you, Jacky.”

At that, Jack had to fight back the lump forming in his throat. “ I’m sorry, mom. I won’t…” He gulped. “I’ll stop taking jobs like that.”

Piper rested a hand on his arm. “I know that you’re a good man too, and I believe you’ll do better. No matter what, though, I love you, kiddo.” They shared another hug.

Piper took a deep breath. “But, you didn’t come home to catch an earful from me. Tell me about last night.”

Jack’s mouth hung open at how quickly Piper had pivoted the conversation. He shook his head and hummed; she was always good at compartmentalizing. “Making friends with the locals all over again, they seem to keep forgetting about me.”

“Hey, you won’t catch me saying Hillman didn’t deserve it.” She chuckled. “Just like your father, such a gentleman…” She walked past him into the hall, signaling with her hand to follow her towards the kitchen.

“I see you’ve still got Ronin working guard dog duty. Ol’ guy never quits, huh?”

Piper beamed at him as they passed the robot. “Built by the Commonwealth’s finest. He keeps on ticking, just like the old press used to when the screws were loose.”

“Still don’t know how you didn’t lose a hand from that rickety piece of shit.”

Piper raised a finger at Jack’s abhorrent offense. “Don’t you make fun of my old equipment! That ‘rickety piece of shit’ put you through school, and allowed you to proceed to squander that education by becoming a wandering thug- sorry, I mean mercenary.”

Jack scoffed. “Low blow. Didn’t we just go through this? Man, you’re just mad that I get to travel and shoot stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She pulled two ice-cold beers from the refrigerator, handing one to her son. They clinked the bottles together before slamming the bottle tops against the edge of the counter, sending the caps hurtling into the air before being snagged with clenched fists.

“Listen, I didn’t stop by _only_ to hear you make fun of my hopes and dreams, or lack thereof, again. Now tell me, what’s Diamond City’s best-ever mayor up to these days?”

She sighed and took a long swig. “I still hate politics. Never would’ve thought I’d end up in charge of anything more labor-intensive than the paper, and yet here I am as the ‘leader’ of this place after… Christ, seven years?” Another drink. “Weird how life works. But, then again, I never would’ve thought I’d end up meeting a time travelling Blueberry, falling in love, going through a bunch of other sappy shit, being part of a war, and having a kid either. So, I guess it evens out.”

“You have quite the way with words, mom. You should write for a newspaper or something.”

Piper deadpanned at him. “Funny. You should join a circus or something, you certainly look the part.”

“Hm, I’d have to work on my acrobatics. Not as limber as I used to be…”

They shared a laugh before Piper continued. “Seriously though, I can’t wait until my term is done. I just want to go back to when times were simple, and I could slag the mayor all I wanted without seeming like a self-hating lunatic, rather than a fully functional one.”

“You could just quit, you know. You’ve done more for this place than anyone since the bombs dropped, and I doubt that anyone with any credibility could say you’ve done a poor job.”

She shrugged. “I’ve thought about it. We’ll see. Hey, you didn’t ever answer my question. Spill. What made you come to Diamond City?”

“Well, I wasn’t _totally_ full of shit, I did come back to see you and Nat. But, some guy up in the stands is paying me good money to go take out a group of raiders up north, something about interfering with trade routes.”

Piper put her bottle down and looked at Jack. “When you say ‘up north…’”

“Lynn Woods.”

“Ahh, up near our old buddy’s turf. You gonna pay a visit?”

“I’m sure he’ll get involved one way or another. Good in a fight, for sure.”

Piper gave an unamused chuckle. “Yep, definitely just like your father.” She sighed again. “Well, I’m sure my sister would love to go for a little murderfest.” 

“You sure she’s not busy for a few days?”

Piper shook her head. “Nah, I can get her shift covered. Besides, she could use a break. Go peel her sorry butt off the couch that she undoubtedly passed out on.”

“And if she’s not alone?”

“Not my problem.”

They clinked bottles once more before downing the rest of the drinks.

“I’ll probably be back through after I’m done, so I’ll see you then. Thanks for the drink, mom. And the kick in the ass.”

Piper smiled softly, hugging her son again. “Always.”

…

Jack shut the door behind him, zipping up his jacket and descending the side of the building. From his perch he could see Nat’s apartment, attached to the side of Publick Occurrences. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, weaving through the bustling streets of Diamond City. His eyes flicked to the store owners openly hawking their wares, and the small crowds that typically occupied the surrounding areas. He made a mental note to stop by Diego’s weapon shop the next time he was in town to refill his stock of ammunition.

Jack turned a corner and stopped at the door, raising a closed fist to rap on the door of Nat’s home before letting himself in. “Diamond City Security, here to bring you in, Ms. Wright!”

Sounds of panic and clothes shuffling reached his ears, moments before a man barely two legs into his underpants burst into the entryway. Jack smirked at the scene in front of him and crossed his arms, stepping to the side as the panicked man streaked out the door and into the dense crowd outside. Jack heard Diamond City security yelling after him and shook his head at the eventual report his mother would get regarding public indecency near the Publick. From Jack’s guess, it wouldn’t be the first. Nat emerged from her bedroom with a bored look, dressed in only _her_ underwear.

Jack shot her a glance. “Have you no shame, Nat?”

She rolled her eyes. “Only one who has something to be ashamed of is that little man. Maybe I should start asking for professional references before I start bringing these overconfident boy scouts back…” Nat shook her head. “So what’s up, Blackjack?”

Jack jerked his thumb towards the door. “Got word that there’s a buncha raiders up near Lynn that have got to go. We can go see our friend while we’re up there, and mom says you’ve now got the week off. You down?”

Nat gave a half smile and cracked her knuckles. “Always. Give me a few minutes to make myself decent, and we can get to killin’.”

She shut her bedroom door behind her. Jack took a look around, eyeing up the relatively spartan household furnishings. He knew Nat made enough money to own more than what she had on display, but she also exercised far more financial restraint than he would assume, were she not his relative. Minutes later she emerged dressed in tight road leathers and strapping a weathered chestplate to her torso.

“Onward, stalwart explorer!”

Jack whistled. “Wow, Nat, that’s a big word for you! You find a roll of word of the day toilet paper during your last trip?”

She punched his shoulder and pushed her front door open. “Get moving, Jack-ass.”

Jack laughed and walked back outside, hearing Nat lock the door behind them. They continued down the damp street, rounding the corner to face the stone steps of Diamond City’s main gate. They walked side by side, falling into quiet conversation. 

A group of children ran from an alley, screams of delight coming from each of them. The last one to run onto the path caught his foot in the mud and tumbled down, pouting and making no immediate effort to stand. Jack tossed Nat a look and walked to the kid. Little scars littered his arms, and his short brown hair was stuck to his forehead. Jack smiled.

_Looks like I did at his age._

“Up you go, kid.” Jack lifted him by the underarms and placed him gently down and reached into a side pouch on his backpack to retrieve a red bottle. 

“I was savin’ this for a rainy day, but I think you should have it.”

The child gingerly took the Nuka Cherry and uttered the tiniest “thank you” Jack had ever heard. The kid took off right away, disappearing around a corner.

Nat came up beside him. “That was real sweet, Jack.”

“Eh, I had the extra soda.”

“And you weren’t planning on sharing it with me, huh?”

Jack turned back to her. “Hmm… Nope.”

“You little— “

A shout came from behind them. “Whoa, hang on, Jack! Are you tellin’ me that you came back home and didn’t even _visit_ me?! I’m hurt, brotha!” 

“Not even the first time I’ve heard that today…”

Jack and Nat turned to see a man of color with a build just slighter than Jack’s, and as tall as Nat, jogging toward them. To Jack’s expectation, he was already dressed for a walk in the Commonwealth.

“Mornin’, Ronny. A little early to be this amped up, isn’t it?”

Nat scoffed. “He’s _always_ this amped up. S’why I’ve called him Espresso since you two were kids, especially when he bounces off the walls. Hey kid, your zipper’s down.”

Ronny’s expression didn’t falter, using one hand to correct his wardrobe malfunction as he waved the other. “Yeah whatever, not important. Seriously, where was my invite? And don’t tell me that the mailman lost it again, or that D4 must have eaten it!”

Jack chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Still can’t believe you called him Dogmeat the 4th. But yeah man, just wait till I tell you that we went drinkin’ last night, and that I broke some dude’s arm.”

Ronny’s mouth hung open, posture leaning forward to the point where he nearly fell over. Nat laughed, propping him up with two fingers.

“Cheer up, killer. We’re gonna go shoot stuff that maybe-probably-definitely deserves it, you in?”

Ronny popped up in an instant, smiling the big dumb grin he was known for. “Sweet. Where we headed?”


	3. Castle on the HIll

The sun beat down on the trio as they trundled through the streets north of the river. The tip of the white monument at Bunker Hill was visible from their location, newly restored architecture shining brightly against the cloudless sky. Jack remembered the way his father described the two-hundred-foot spire when he first saw it after the war, how his heart clenched at seeing it bloodied, but not bowed. Jack always assumed his father was being overly dramatic, but he had to admit – seeing one of the old world’s stalwart icons looking almost as good as the day it was built inspired an awe he couldn’t describe.

“Jesus Christ, I need a  _ fucking _ shower!”

And just like that, it was gone.

“Would you calm down? We don’t need to get blindsided by raiders when we’re a hundred feet from the perimeter.” Jack was weary, far too tired to let Ronny’s whining go.

“Not that I don’t need one too, but he’s right, Espresso.”

Ronny blew a raspberry, but otherwise quieted down as they strolled down the road. He knew Jack was right, not only because Jack had more road experience than him, but because it was common sense  _ everywhere _ . The Commonwealth was less tainted by the lawless rabble than it had been in centuries, but even still, all it took was one slip-up to get sent to an early grave.

The walls of the Bunker Hill settlement were expanded beyond what they were a scant two years prior, with reinforced steel beams holding them up, and laden with auto-turrets at regular intervals. Jack knew from his regular pit stops at the bastion of north Boston that it was the second most self-sufficient settlement in the land, only behind Diamond City. They’d installed much of their current arsenal themselves, but he also knew that his father had helped springboard them to an elevated status. The matter of why eluded Jack, but the point was beyond moot at this juncture. The gate guard’s shout broke his reminiscing.

“You three, state your business!”

Nat rolled her eyes, cutting off Jack’s response. “Spend money, drink beer, pass out. That alright with you, Spencer? And do you have to ask that  _ every time _ ?”

The man chortled at her. “Sorry, Nat, I told you that Kessler mandated that we question everyone coming in. Just doing my job, baby.”

“And I told  _ you _ , pipsqueak, that I am  _ not _ your baby. You gonna open the gate, or what?”

Jack wore a bemused smile as he heard disheartened grumbling behind the wall, and followed Nat and Ronny through the open door.

As was typically the case, Bunker Hill was buzzing with commerce and chatter. The brahmin pen for the traveling traders had one more stall than even the last time Jack had been there, and it was full to capacity. Ronny elbowed Jack’s side.

“I’ll get us a set of beds, meet at the bar?”

“Way ahead of you.” 

Nat pushed past both of them and made a beeline for an open stool. Jack jogged after her and sat down, ordering his usual whiskey, neat. The bartender dropped off the liquor before returning to his other customers, and with cold drink in hand, Jack sighed, looking around. The adjacent power armor parking bays housed suits of varying size and state of wear, most sporting a faded Brotherhood of Steel logo on the chest piece. Every frame carried plating littered with scores and burns, once-proud metallic shine and paint long weathered under the oppressive battering of Commonwealth hospitality. Owners of the suits, both Brotherhood and not, wandered amongst the crowds. These days, Bunker Hill was just as busy as Diamond City, with an even bigger trade hub.

Minutemen soldiers also dotted the crowds, telltale uniforms and hats making them stick out. They shopped, stood guard, talked, laughed, and shared company with everyone – Brotherhood included. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, or the only place, but it always gave Jack a mild sense of relief when he saw the Commonwealth’s two power players not only getting along, but actively cooperating. With the Brotherhood as the bricks and Minutemen as the mortar, the people of the wasteland typically enjoyed safety in and around the ever-growing towns the likes of which hadn’t been seen in a long time.

Typically.

Jack hadn’t chastised Ronny just for the sake of it, despite the plausible possibility on any given day. There was no question that the efforts of the two factions, as well as Jack’s parents and those like them, had created a remarkably better off world, but it was dangerous to assume the twin brothers of guns and explosives weren’t still any traveler’s best friends.

Jack polished off his glass, setting it down at the same time as Nat. She sighed.

“Forgot how much I missed the booze here. Compared to Vadim’s stuff, it’s got less… what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Shit?”

She beamed. “That’s the one! Plus, the eye candy is better here.” 

Jack followed Nat’s eyes as she spun around, brow furrowing as he looked around the bar. Military and civilian soldiers, as well as perfectly average people, occupied her field of view. 

“Which one?”

Without missing a beat, she sat back against the bar. “All of ‘em.”

“You trying to run a one-woman swoon crew?”

Nat shrugged. “You think I could?”

“I don’t think my opinion would stop you from trying.”

She swatted him, smirk on her lips. “Ass.”

The stool next to Jack sagged down, its new occupant calling for a beer of his own. Ronny tossed a key to Nat and Jack. “Second floor of the Brady.”

Nat scrunched her face. “Is that what Kessler is calling the hotel now? Why?”

“Dunno. Said she wanted it to feel like the Rexford, with a snappy name, and that it had something to do with some local sports team from before the war.” Ronny spoke between gulps of his drink. 

He slammed the mug down and bellowed out a whoop. “Personally, I don’t really care. Beer, bed, bath. Got everything I need! Did I miss anything?”

Jack opened his mouth, but before a word left it, he was cut off by a commotion in a nearby alcove. A pair of lightly armored men had a smaller man boxed in against a pillar, the victim’s shirt bunched in one of their fists. His attacker lifted him off the ground, finger jabbing into his chest as he was accosted in harsh whispers. Jack couldn’t hear the one-sided conversation, but it had every look of a shakedown turning violent, culminating in thrown punches. Blood sprayed onto the stone as blow after blow collided with his face, knocking him senseless. As he took each hit, angry bruises formed all over his dirty, rugged features. The people in the crowd passed by normally, completely unaware of what was happening mere feet from the main causeway. One of the attackers drew a large, oddly colored knife, and stabbed the man in his gut, drawing a howl from him. The noise was immediately silenced by the other attacker slamming his hand over the victim’s mouth.

Jack returned to his whiskey, shaking his head before downing more of the beverage. 

Nat elbowed his arm. “We have to do something!”

Ronny remained silent, but looked to Jack, who twisted his neck to stare at the groaning man. He coughed blood into the dirt while covering the hole in his stomach, whimpering like an animal that knew it would die. Jack grunted. “Nope. This ain’t the Dugout, I can’t just gun someone down and expect everyone to be cool with it. Poor son of a bitch probably deserved it, not worth stickin’ my neck out.”

Nat tilted her head, glaring at him sharply. “Jack!” Her exasperated voice underscored the surprise in her voice.

“Come on, man!” Ronny shook Jack, who didn’t respond, waving his hand while polishing off the drink. Jack made no effort to rise from his seat, and, like the unknown masses, acted as if nothing had occurred at all.

The two attacking men dropped the limp body and gave it a kick each before disappearing among the sea of faces. Nat craned her neck to search for them, snarling at the utter lack of any trace. She pushed back from the bar and stood.

“Well if you’re not gonna do something, I will. Come on, Ron. Help me.”

Wordlessly, Ronny nodded and followed Nat through the crowd. They spoke to the man, adjusting his position to allow them to carry him toward the infirmary. Jack watched them go, and pushed a deep sigh through his nose. He ran his tongue over his top teeth within his closed mouth as his mind wandered. Nat and Ronny were gingerly placing the man on a bed in the clinic, giving Jack a look at how bloodied their clothes were from the effort. Jack sighed again, retrieving the bar tab for all three of them and leaving it on the wooden slab. He got up from his seat and followed in the footsteps of his friends. The doctor, a smaller woman that Jack didn’t recognize, had her back to him, turning to meet his eyes without stopping her speech as he entered the tent. She was a head and a half shorter than Jack, with dirty blonde hair and dull, green eyes. Her face was dotted with light freckles and dark bags, scrunched at the top of her face by high-resting dimples.

“-his own treatment. He probably owed money to the guys that put him here.”

“So, what’s going to happen to him?” Ronny spoke for the room.

The doctor sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “Truth be told, I don’t know. I’m short on the supplies that I would need to treat— “ She waved her hand along the man’s body, “—all this. And, whatever they stuck him with must have had some kind of toxin on it, you can already see it affecting the surrounding area. These ugly lesions forming near the wound are hot – way hotter than anything I’ve seen. That alone might be the last nail in his coffin.”

Ronny deflated, shoulders sinking as the breath he’d been holding left his lungs. Nat spoke up.

“There’s nothing you can do?”

The doctor slowly shook her head. “Not really. I don’t even know what’s in him, so all I could do is slow down the process. I’ve had a flier posted on the job board to have someone scout for some supplies that might be able to help, but I haven’t gotten any takers for days.”

“Well, why not? How much is the contract worth?” Ronny said, quietly.

She rubbed her arm. “Only a hundred caps. I don’t have the money saved up for the kind of ask that this is. It’d take a trek through Mass General, or maybe Medford, and the clinic doesn’t pull in enough money for the reward I’d have to offer.” She turned to the man on the bed, taking note of his shallow breathing. “He might just be a goner.”

“I’ll do it.”

Jack saw the room look to him, not missing the look of relief washing over Nat’s face. The doctor looked him up and down, rested her gaze on Jack’s face. After a moment, she spoke with hesitation.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, sir, but I still wouldn’t be able to pay you properly to do the job, not to mention what his treatment would cost.”

Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders. “So I’ll take less. Take off the cost of the supplies and treatment, give me what’s left.”

The doctor blinked hard. “But that might not be more than a few dozen caps. Why would you do that?”

Jack shrugged. “We’re already headed up past Medford anyways. And sometimes, it’s not about the money. Sometimes you gotta do what’s right.”

Nat couldn’t help but roll her eyes, mumbling something about being a dork.

“Well, I can’t possibly turn that down.” She shook his hand. “You’ve got a deal, mister…”

“Thompson, Jack Thompson.”

Her face melted into recognition. “Oh— Oh! You’re Nate’s son?”

He winced and gave a forced smile. “The very same. You knew him?”

“Ah, no, but my mentor did. She talked about him often, I think she might have had a little crush on him.” The woman leaned in. “But don’t tell Miss Piper I said that. You  _ can _ tell her that Mary and Kay say hello, though!”

Jack chuckled warmly. “Sure, alright Mary. So what are we going to be looking for?”

Well, let’s see.” Mary stared upwards as she rattled off a mental checklist. “Medford would probably have some run of the mill all-purpose treatments for poisoning, but they might also have special countermeasures in case someone accidentally ingested something more specialized-“

“So,  _ what _ are we lookin’ for?” Ronny cut in.

Mary cleared her throat. “Just look for anything in or near some kind of ‘in case of emergency’ container that says something about poison. Oh, and a working ventilator would be amazing! I’d give you extra for that.”

Jack clapped his hands. “Perfect, I think we can remember all that. We’ll spend the night here, and then head out in the morning. Do what you can for this guy.”

“Will do. I can’t thank you enough! And it was an honor to meet you, Mister Thompson!” She turned back to Nat and Ronny, both standing with smirks and crossed arms. Mary felt her cheeks burning, and scratched the back of her head. “Sorry Miss Wright, Mister Harrison.”

Ronny laughed, dropping his smug demeanor. “No worries.” He nudged Nat’s shoulder, “But speaking of little crushes…”

They both shared a smile, causing Mary to look away, blushing more intensely. “A-anyway, thank you all for helping me, but I really should get back to work. Miss Wright, Mister Harrison, Mister Thompson, have a pleasant day!”

Mary ushered them out, and the three turned to converse outside the tent.

“She seems nice.” Nat spoke, facing Jack directly.

“Yeah, bro, she really took a shine to you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Jack scoffed. “Yeah, yeah,” He looked upwards. “Getting late, how about we head to our bunks?”

Nat and Ronny shared a look, both shrugging. “Lead the way, Espresso.”

Ronny pointed toward the north end of the settlement, “Onwards!” he declared.

Nat walked shoulder to shoulder with Jack, drawing his attention when she hummed at him.

“What?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Proud of you, though, Jack.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What for?”

She balled her fists and brought them to her cheeks, speaking with a high-pitched voice. “Doing the right thing!”

Jack lightly shoved her. “Shut up, Natalie.”

Nat beamed at him. “You can’t fool me, kiddo, I know you love me!”

His smile gave him away.

\---

Jack dug into his bag, retrieving the caps for his supply run, and dropped them on the counter. He stuffed the ammo and stims into their proper compartments and thanked the shop owner with a nod and wave. 

He saw Ronny standing at the market entrance, leaning against a column with his arms crossed, attention directed at something across the plaza. Jack followed his eyes and saw Nat leaning over a counter. She had her back to him, but Jack knew what she was doing – the same thing she always did. He’d seen it before, Nat would undo the top button on her shirt and lean into the shopping counter of a store, fishing for any hesitation or distraction in the demeanor of the shopkeeper. Like a wasteland viper, she would watch and prowl, putting on an alluring appearance before pouncing on the first sign of weakness. 

When he was a younger man, Jack had once asked her if what she was doing was wrong, if it was any better than stealing, at the end of the day.

_ “There’s worse things than getting swindled during a transaction because of a set of tits, Jacky boy. _ **_I’m_ ** _ not really doing anything, it’s them that choose to acknowledge it. It’s not stealing, and it’s not extortion. Sex sells, and sex discounts. Been that way since the beginning of forever.” _

He understood, and he didn’t ever blame Nat for it; if he had a charm like that, he told himself that it would more than likely get just as much use.

Jack shook his head and joined Ronny. “Got everything?”

Ronny turned. “Yessir. Ready to hit the road, maybe hit something else too. Hopefully not  _ get _ hit.”

Jack hummed and examined the crowds around them. Just like any other day, people milled around and went about their lives. A few minutes later, Nat joined them, rebuttoning her shirt.

“You boys ready?”

“Yep yep, let’s go.” Ronny pointed his finger guns toward the gate as he spun, leading the group outwards. A few paces before they reached the gate, the group stopped as the doors swung open to allow a caravan group inside the walls. Two traders in dusty, mangled clothes silently strolled past them, followed by a dozen scarred caravan guards and three weary Brahmin.

Jack felt eyes on him, and he turned to see that one of the guards had stopped to stare at him. The lower half of her face was concealed by a worn bandana, but bright blue eyes peered over the aged fabric, and the woman’s auburn hair shone against the sun. Even through the face covering, Jack could make out the expression of curious wonder etched on her features and found himself equally as speechless.

“Pellin, keep it moving!” The shout from one of the male caravan guards further into the market broke her reverie, and she gave a small wave as she turned to leave.

“You know her, Blackjack?” Nat spoke from behind him.

He slowly shook his head. “No. Forget it, let’s go.”

Despite his own words, Jack found it difficult to do anything of the sort.


	4. Tremors

Ronny slammed the door behind them, releasing a deep sigh and sliding down the surface of the wood to the floor. He rubbed at his throbbing leg and rolled up his pant leg to peer at the damage. The discolored skin of his quad was painful to the touch, the recently applied stimpak still stitching his flesh back together.

Nat sat down on a bed, tiredly rolling her head in his direction. “How you holdin’ up, Ron?”

Ronny groaned. “Doing great. Might just go for a run in a bit, here.”

She stowed her bag under the mattress and walked over to him. “Come on, let’s get you on the bed.”

Nat pulled Ronny up, offering her shoulder to guide him. She laid him down, just as Jack entered the room.

“We’re paid up for two nights, so we can spend an extra day to recover.”

Nat looked up at him. “Two? How much extra did that run you?”

“Not a cap. Ran into someone that was nice enough to cover it for us.”

“Yeah, but don’t go tellin’ anyone, Jacky. I’ve got me reputation t’uphold around here, you know.”

Nat’s face lit up, and she stood and ran to the waiting figure of Cait. They shared a hug, as the Irish woman rubbed Nat’s back.

Jack was always amazed at how little the years seemed to affect Cait. Her face was very nearly unwrinkled, and her body as toned and curvy as it had been in the earliest memories he had of her. Her arms played host to more tattoos, but her hair still held the same dirty red sheen, and even the clothes she wore were the same style as the tattered traveling garb that always went with her.

“It’s so good to see you, Miss Cait.”

Cait scoffed. “I keep tellin’ ya, girlie, quit callin’ me that! It makes me feel older than I already am.”

“Sorry, Miss Cait, it’s a habit I probably won’t be breaking.”

“Besides, you could pass for someone half your age, I swear.” Ronny spoke from his bed, propped on his elbow.

“Gah, what is it with you kids? You don’t have to lie to me like that, Ron.” She rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks dusted with pink.

Jack chuckled. “Well he isn’t being _that_ dishonest, Cait. I don’t care what that one gray hair says, you look damn good for middle aged!”

Cait punched his shoulder. “You’re damn lucky I love ya, Jacky, ya little bastard.”

The hit didn’t stumble Jack, so he knew she held back, but a dull ache still cropped up in his arm. Turned out, he supposed, that someone who grew up cage fighting would always be able to throw a mean punch.

“So, what happened, Ron? Don’t tell me that ya fell and hit a rock or somethin’?”

Ronny hummed, rubbing at his leg again. “Worse - I fell and hit a bullet from a jetted-out raider. Paid him back, though, so don’t worry.”

“Good thing. Well, can ya walk? The best cure I ever found for bullets was liquor.”

Ronny sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing his hobbled limb against the floor. He didn’t wince, so he tested his luck at standing, then walking.

“Not falling over yet. Let’s go, Jack’s buying.” He strode through the door. Nat pumped her fist, Cait uncrossed her arms and smirked, both left the room.

Jack whipped around. “Jack’s doing _what_? God damn it, Ron!”

\---

“Got this one after Nate helped me flush me system of the Psycho, make a new future and all that.”

“Touching, great sentiment.”

“Got this one after Jacky boy was born.”

“Embarrassing, but I love the love.”

“Got this one after I killed a deathclaw bare handed.”

“Sounds fake, but sure.”

“Got this one after I started me own life and got this job.”

“And how is it being head of security at Country Crossing?”

Cait let her arm fall to the table, lolling her head to the side to look at Ronny. “Me of thirty years ago would have laughed in my face, called me all sorts of shite for bein’ some boring old woman and takin’ a ‘real job.’ Me of ten years ago may have had similar thoughts, but I get to punch people for pissin’ me off, I get paid for it, _and_ I don’t have to use Psycho. Sounds like a winner to me.”

Nat raised her glass. “Here, here.”

All of them followed suit and took a drink, and Nat gestured to a tattoo half-covered by the hem of Cait’s shirt, just above her hip. “What’s that one, Miss Cait?”

Cait leaned to follow Nat’s eyes, staring at the lightly fading ink on her side. She hummed quietly, pulling the fabric up to reveal the full picture. “This… this is from a dark part of me life. I got it during my time livin’ at the Combat Zone, one of the scrawny Raiders gave it to me after I showed up and started fightin’ for Tommy.”

Ronny frowned. “What was the inspiration?”

Cait was quiet for several moments. “A reminder of the time I spent as a slave, after me parents sent me to die…” She felt herself slipping back into the nightmare she’d been trying to kick for decades.

_Back in the trailer park, hitting things with rocks and making a nuisance, as kids do. A crash from a rock hitting something fragile wakes her father, and his annoyed yelling starts up again. It continues for what feels like hours, slowly devolving into guttural screeches. The form of her father morphs into some great black beast, and she runs, but no matter how hard she pumps her legs the danger only looms ever closer. Finally, she trips and shuts her eyes, waiting._

_There’s a gap at this part, one she can’t ever remember no matter how many times she’s forced to endure this pain. Snippets of hard labor and those damned men forcing themselves on her assaults her mind like aggressive slaps from an unseen attacker in a pitch-black room, leaving her reeling in aggravated frustration. Then, without warning, she’s standing on the threshold of her parents’ trailer again, only this time she’s gripping a shotgun so hard she thinks it might snap in half. There’s blood on the walls, a wild, feral look in her eyes as she stares at the bodies of the people she once called family. The Psycho is tugging at her mind, dragging her thoughts into a cloud of rage and red-tinged revenge._

Hot tears squeezed from Cait’s tightly shut eyes, trailing down her fair cheeks. She felt her nails digging roughly into her palms. “I haven’t told anyone that story in years, not since—” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She released a shuddering breath.

Jack stood from his chair and knelt next to Cait, wrapping her in a hug as she cried. Cait didn’t let herself make a scene, she refused to, but the lifeline Jack provided was more than welcome while she collected herself. She broke away from Jack, sniffling as she smiled at him and smoothed his hair. Nat and Ronny watched on, both extending a hand to rest on each of Cait’s arms.

“Your father was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Jacky. Somehow, some way, he managed to help me move on from all the bullshit that ran my life, all because he actually _cared_ about me, like I was someone he’d known for all his years. I… I still get the dreams sometimes, but it’s a damn sight better than the nightly terrors I had all that time...” She sniffled again. “And I suppose Piper helped too, the damn peppy broad.”

Jack smiled. “I’m sure that both of them would be so honored to hear you say that, Cait.” He reclaimed his seat alongside her, and decided it would be best to change the subject. “So, are you here to stay? Gonna settle down, meet someone nice, start a family of little drunken kids?”

Cait leaned back and laughed softly. “You’re a funny guy. Stay and settle? Maybe, I do like it here. Start a family? Fuck no, I think I missed the boat on that particular idea. I’ll be just fine with the occasional shag. And besides, I’ve got you an’ Ronny to be my little ones.”

“Jeez, Cait, when did you become such a big softy?” Ronny smirked through his words.

“Don’t make me smack ya, kid.”

“Like a true Irishwoman…” Nat drawled.

“I’m serious, though, I love all of ya like me own blood. I didn’t get to have the life that girls dream about when they’re tykes, and for a long time that really fucked me up. After a while I got over it and started focusin’ on making it to the next day, but eventually I just gave up on thinkin’ I’d ever have something like a real family to love me. It’s… well, I’ll just say that I’m glad I was wrong.” Cait’s attention rested fondly on each of their faces for a beat. “I really don’t know what I would do without you all.” She hummed again, pushing air through her nose. “Even when he’s gone Nate is still givin’ me reasons to keep going.”

The group dynamic turned reflective, everyone taking in the chance to reminisce and appreciate what they had in each other.

Soon the conversation shifted to the community around them. Country Crossing had grown the most of almost any non-Boston settlement, and they recently had the luxury of a team of Mr. Handy’s sent from Greygarden to maintain round the clock operations. Like many other Commonwealth living areas, the terrain was the biggest challenge in expanding. So, the robots were outfitted with excavation tools and within months there were several plots of flattened land.

They had even managed to get a greenhouse going, which was as bountiful as could be hoped for. From the time of Jack’s father until now, the settlement had added four housing developments, a market, a brahmin farm, a bar, and a clinic. The nearby National Guard facility had been converted into a training hub and forward operating base for the Minutemen, giving knowledge and experience to a large portion of the people from other settlements in need of basic survivalist tactics and firearm know-how.

The bar was a small affair, with a twenty-foot counter and four tables. The group sat at the rearmost one, at Cait’s request, due to her deep-seeded paranoia of having her back to a room.

Nat sat up and looked at Cait. “So, what’s been going on around here?”

“Eh, not a hell of a lot. A few petty crimes, nothing usually worth more than a few nights in a cell. Every now and again someone comes in looking to offload some shady cargo, and I run ‘em out. Don’t need a stream of chems comin’ into my town.”

Jack sniggered. “Listen to you, so protective.”

“Hey, I can be a damn good guardian when I want to be! Just ask yer mother, she’d back me up.” Cait was silent for a few moments. “Oh, there was one other thing. A week or two ago I got wind of a group of thugs roughin’ people up, beatin’ ‘em and takin’ money from ‘em and such. From what I was told, these lot were real good in a fight.”

Jack sat up. “So what did you do with them?”

She shrugged. “They skipped town before I even got there. They were here and gone within a couple hours, never got the chance to do a thing.”

“Shit man… You said they just showed up, mugged people, and bounced?” Ronny asked.

Cait hummed. “Poor bastards they attacked are still in the clinic, some kind of poison in their veins.”

The three looked at each other, and Nat spoke up. “Something the doctor doesn’t have anything to treat? Overly hot lesions on their skin?”

Cait’s forehead scrunched together. “Yeah… And the skin is starting to blacken— wait how’d you know?”

“We just came from Bunker Hill; someone got the exact same treatment. A week or two ago, huh? Probably not the same guys, kinda troubling.”

Jack interjected. “We’re on our way up to Medford to see about a potential treatment. If we find one, we’ll swing back through on our way down. Hopefully your people are still above ground at that point.”

“Any idea where this stuff is comin’ from? If we’ve got some crazy gobshite selling a new, slow, painful killer toxin to wasteland psychopaths, I want to know about it.” Cait growled, leaning forward with conviction thick in her voice.

“We don’t know much more than you at this point.” Ronny said. “But now we’ve _got_ to find something.” Ronny brought his fist down on the table, rattling the glasses.

Nat rested her hand on Ronny’s shoulder. “And we will. For now, Miss Cait, is there anything that could use a couple of able bodies, so long as we’re here?”

Cait put a finger to her chin. “Suppose you could help the boys put up some new perimeter fencin’, and a couple turrets. They’re trying to get it wrapped up before the end of tomorrow.”

Jack stood, jingling a few caps in his hand. “Say no more. I’ll cover this, and we’ll get started tomorrow morning.”

\---

Jack wiped his brow and leaned against the fencepost. He put his recently used hammer on top and took a drink from his water canteen. He looked over to see Nat doing the same, and Ronny on top of the scaffolding turning a wrench. The latter swore as he stripped a bolt and tossed his jacket to the ground in frustration.

Nat and Jack had shed their top layers some time ago, now wearing only tank tops against the harsh sun, grateful that it was nearly below the horizon. The work had been constant since sunrise, but they had finally put the finishing touches on the wall.

Ronny jumped down from his perch. “Fuck it, that’ll have to do. They’d better not need to get at that bolt any time soon.”

He flicked on the generator next to the catwalk, sighing in relief when the turrets started up and rotated in place.

Nat slapped Ronny on the back. “Nice job. Time for a shower?”

“Might need two, at this point.”

The three of them picked up their clothes and slung them over their shoulders, tiredly walking toward their bunkhouse. As they approached the security station on the right, a scrap of paper nailed to the notice board caught Jack’s eye.

_Missing – Peter Ingrid. Last seen headed to marina. If found, contact Wendy Ingrid_

“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Nat and Ronny didn’t look back at him.

Jack ascended the steps to the station and went inside, spotting Cait at a desk near the back of the room.

“Hey, how long’s that missing person poster been outside?”

She looked up at him. “I dunno, a few days? Why?”

“Has anyone done an investigation or anything?”

Cait put down the papers she held. “I had one of my guys go ask the wife, but what information she had was next to useless. I told her that we’d keep trying, but that I wouldn’t guarantee anything.”

Jack was silent for a moment. “Have you gotten missing persons before?”

“It’s the only one I can remember that’s gotten a poster, but people get themselves lost all the time in the Commonwealth. Most times, people either know or assume the person’s dead, so they don’t bother with it. Dumb bastard probably picked a fight with a mirelurk or somethin’.”

“Real nice, Cait.”

She rolled her eyes. “Listen, me compassion only goes so far. Doesn’t matter if shite’s better off than it was when I was your age. It’s still the Commonwealth, and it’s still dangerous. People have to be smart.”

Jack sighed. “Alright, thanks.” He pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and wrote down the name and description. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Cait.”

“G’night, Jacky.”

\---

Jack walked from the bunkhouse to the settlement gate, stopping to crack his back.

“Christ, am I sore.”

Nat passed him, doing one-armed circles. “Join the club. I feel like I got trampled by a herd of brahmin.”

“Really? Cause I feel great!” Ronny popped up next to them.

“Is that right?”

“Oh hell no, my wrists are killing me.”

“Mhm.”

Nat shouldered her bag, whining as the second strap slipped on. Jack and Ronny grunted as they did the same, the latter letting out a constricted breath.

“You alright there, bud?”

“Doin’ great.” It came out as a winded wheeze, the pure cartoonishness of it making Jack laugh.

The three travelers saw Cait standing at the gate, waiting to see them off. She hugged each of them and planted a kiss on the side of Jack’s head when she got to him.

“Thanks for stoppin’ by, Jacky, stay well. Come back soon?”

He smiled. “For you? Of course. Like I said, we’ll be back on the return trip from Medford.”

Cait returned his smile and called for the gatekeeper to open them. She waved them off, waiting until they were gone from her sight to heave a sigh and return to her security station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another familiar face! Next one has some action in it, I promise!


	5. Contagion

Burned, decaying flesh hung on top of a brittle frame. Deeply sunken, bloodshot eyes recessed into a malformed skull playing host to a long-destroyed brain stared blankly ahead. Yellow, rotten teeth sat among taut gums exposed to the elements. A torso lined with bony ribs like piano keys rested above a stomach unnaturally turned inward.

A distant cough jolted the body to the side, throwing a splatter of blood across a nearby car.

“Good hit.” Jack lowered his binoculars as Nat racked another round. He looked at Ronny and nodded, peering through the looking glass again as Ronny slid off the edge of the perch and quietly moved toward the building. He slinked from cover to cover, knife drawn with his fist held overhanded around the hilt.

“Target on the parking garage, left side railing.”

“Got it.” Another shot.

“Good hit.” He shifted left. “One just stood up, blue car at 150 yards.

She fired, sending the corpse to the ground.

“Good hit. By the main door, crouched.”

Nat’s gun danced, and the body fell.

Jack directed his attention to Ronny, who plunged his knife down into the skull of a ghoul in the guard shack. The body slumped, and Ronny slowly guided it to the ground.

Nat pulled the bolt back and slid a new magazine into the rifle. “Give me a challenge.”

He smirked, not taking his eyes off the Medford building. “Third story window, south corner, walking left to right. About to lose line of sight—“

The ghoul jerked to the side as its blood coated the lab table next to it.

“Alright then.”

Jack found his friend again, just as another ghoul outside the shack met the serrated edge. Ronny looked around twice and, once satisfied, stared in the direction of the binoculars. He pulled a flashlight from his belt, flashing it twice at them. Nat returned the signal, and Ronny put the tool back, exchanging it for a piece of rubble on the ground and slinking back into the guard shack. Jack shifted his weight and drew his sighted rifle.

Ronny cocked his arm back and tossed the rock toward a collection of rusted out cars. Several loud bangs echoed throughout the courtyard as they were struck by the rubble and Ronny picked up his short shotgun.

Nothing happened.

Ronny looked around with tentative hesitation etched on his face. He peered back to his comrades on the hill and slowly made his way out of the shack to pick up another rock. His hip bumped the trunk of the nearest car as he leaned down to pick up the rubble.

Multiple guttural screeches bellowed from the surrounding area. A gangrenous hand shot out from under the car next to Ronny and grabbed for his arm. He yelped and stomped his boot on the ghoul’s hand, then directed a shotgun shell into its now-exposed head. As if a switch had been flipped, long-decayed windows covered in hundreds of years’ worth of dust shattered, ghouls leaping and falling from the floors above. Wet footsteps sloshed across the broken-up tarmac as the horde raced toward Ronny, as he crouched to ready himself with a wall to his back.

“I’ll take right.” Jack spoke as he turned the fire selector to single.

Ghouls fell with each crack of rifle fire, stumbling and slamming into objects as they sprinted into the sunlight. Lead met them to the chorus of destructive gunfire and knocked them down like dominos. Four, five, six — Jack could only keep count from the number of times the stock kicked against his shoulder. He saw Ronny rolling away from the lunge of a glowing one. It smashed into the wall, drawing a sickening crunch from the grossly malformed creature. Ronny grunted and kicked at the back of its leg, and his knife made quick work of the creature. As he pried the blade from it, the sound of another ghoul sprinting at his back forced him to frantically spin around and raise the blade to strike back.

A final shot tore through the air, screaming across the expanse between the rifle’s muzzle and its target. The bullet buried itself in the ghoul’s streaking body, blowing apart its head in the process. The corpse flopped haphazardly aside as blood splattered onto Ronny’s face. He stood, paralyzed with a permanent expression of disgust, eyes tightly screwed shut.

“This is really goddamn _gross!_ ” Ronny yelled, wiping at the hot liquid with the back of his hand. He gagged and spat, whining each time. His knife found its sheath and he took to wiping off as much of the blood as he could.

Jack lifted his head away from the scope and looked over at Nat. “Did you do that on purpose?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh. Come on, let’s go.”

They swapped their magazines before standing up and slinging their rifles on their backs. They jogged down the hill, dodging brush and fallen trees and stepping around the fallen corpses before stopping in front of Ronny. They both wore amused smirks, Jack with his arms crossed and Nat with a hand on her cocked hip.

“What happened, sport, did you fall in something?” Nat asked in a sing song voice.

Ronny scowled. “If I can’t get this out, you’re buying me a new one.”

“I could’ve just let it eat you.”

“You ever had this bullshit in your nose? How about in your mouth? Death might’ve been better. And my gear…!”

She hummed, face unchanging. “I’d just burn it.”

“Yeah that jacket is a definite goner. Anyway, looks like we’re clear. Once you’re done taking the world’s most disgusting shower, meet us in the lobby.” Jack said.

“I hate you both.”

\---

Nat walked up to the passageway as Jack opened the door, and she recoiled violently as she was hit with a wave of stench like a brick wall.

“Oh dear God, my lunch is threatening to come back up…” She turned and winced through tears, but continued inside. The sight before her did little to ease the feeling. “…And it’s not better further inside.”

Jack and Ronny followed suit, the former wincing as his friend doubled over and wretched. Jack held his nose and stepped through the open door, surveying the lobby of the decrepit hospital and taking stock of all he could see from the dimly lit entrance. It wasn’t the first time he’d been inside Medford Memorial Hospital, but it was very much the goriest scene he’d ever witnessed in the facility. It never ceased to amaze and disappoint him how reliably new wasteland mutants would always reoccupy locations previously cleared by past explorers, like they grew out of the mold every night.

He turned back to see Ronny swiping at his mouth with his hand, breathing heavily but otherwise composed. Jack tapped him and Nat on their shoulders, gesturing for them to stay quiet and move slow. Carefully the trio traversed the lobby, avoiding bags filled with viscera and unidentifiable remains. Every step was accompanied by a wet plop as Jack couldn’t find one spot of floor free from blood.

The group scanned all the doors and corridors they could see as they moved, fingers on the triggers. A map of the building came into view as they reached the front desk, highlighting the patient care areas, medical labs, and even an operating theater. Jack did a double take at that, very few hospitals from before the Great War could say they housed an operating theater. Jack pointed to a floor above them, on the opposite side of the mezzanine, and his party nodded.

A lone echo sounded from a room behind them, and Jack’s hand flew to his sidearm holster. The three of them shared a look. Then it happened again, and a third time. He raised his rifle and crept into the adjoining hallway with Nat and Ronny. The echoes grew louder and more pronounced, until they made Jack’s ears ring. They ducked into a right-side door to find a nurse’s locker room and a shower head leaking drop after drop of irradiated water. Jack approached the knobs on the wall and twisted them to the left, a screech preceding the final splash of water on the tile floor. He turned to his friends, and Nat shrugged.

As the group returned to the front desk, it became apparent to Jack just how deathly quiet the building had become. The sensation that he was being watched wormed into his brain; it made his skin crawl. The weathered vase on the counter next to him shattered the next moment, signaling a hail of bullets flying at the group. They dropped to the floor and took cover behind the desk.

“Son of a bitch! Of _course_ there’s greenskins in this fucking place!” Ronny yelled over the gunfire and maniacal laughter from above. Bullets embedded themselves in the counter above their heads. As was typically the case with run-ins with super mutants, the sheer volume of shots fired made up for the questionable accuracy of the shooters. Dust and debris showered down on them with each displaced chunk of marble.

A stray bullet knocked the building map off the wall and sending it plummeting onto Jack’s head. He brushed it aside, but a feature highlighted in red caught his eye – a staircase in the hallway behind them leading directly to the third floor. He looked up, toward the door. It was an eight-foot run from where he was, eight feet of open ground with plenty of space to get shot.

“The next time there’s a break in their fire, I need you guys to suppress them as much as you can! I’m gonna flank them!”

“They’re super mutants, Jack! They absorb bullets like a sponge!” Nat flinched as a shot punched through the backing of the counter.

“And what am I supposed to do, throw my shotgun?!” Ronny yelled over the commotion.

Jack flicked the leather strap from his sidearm and pulled it from the holster before placing it on the ground and sliding it to his friend. “Aim for something important!” At that moment, Jack heard grunts of annoyance and no guns firing. He scrambled into a run and made for the doorway and heard Ronny and Nat sending lead back at the mutants. He flipped the fire selector automatic and sprinted through the hallway.

Jack took the stairs two at a time and stacked up against the doorway at the top. A subtle peer around the corner showed no enemies, so he adopted as quick a crouched run as he could manage, praying no mutants were in the rooms he had only a split second to examine as he moved. The next twist in the hallway was the last before the uppermost mezzanine, it had to be. The sounds from several rifles he couldn’t count were closer than ever, so he steeled himself, back to the wall. He spun and faced the opening to see the hulking bodies of seven mutants in front of him. He pulled the trigger with no intention of letting go.

\---

“If he doesn’t hurry up we’re gonna have a lot more holes than we came in with real soon!” Ronny shouted.

Nat didn’t answer him, but with every fiber of her being shared the same sentiment. With each passing second, more of their cover was torn away by gunfire, and she was certain that more than one shot had come close enough to singe the hair off her head. She pulled the brim of her hat down as marble dust fell over her head and grit her teeth. With the near-constant stream of lead pelting her and Ronnie, they couldn’t return any kind of meaningful counterattack. Ronnie blindly fired the pistol over the counter and muttered to himself about how he would kill Jack if they died. They both jerked their heads to the side as a grenade bounced off the countertop and onto the floor next to them amidst the crazed laughter.

“ _Fuck_ , Nat get down!” Ronnie scampered forward and kicked out his foot hard at the grenade and jumped to cover Nat’s body. They shut their eyes and curled up as the explosive bounced off a Nuka Cola machine and rocked the lobby with its detonation. The resulting ringing in Nat’s ears threatened to drive her mad and she clutched at her head at the loss of general faculties.

Ronnie shook his head vigorously and tried to pull Nat back to her senses, but his words were lost to the droning in her ears. She blinked her eyes and sat up, still bracing her head with one arm. When her hearing slowly returned, the first thing she heard were shouts of anger, along with the bullets of the owners of the voices. The four mutants they could see had shifted their focus. Nat reached over to grab her rifle and rested it against the desk to take aim. Her arm was shaky and her vision unstable, but her first shot caught a mutant in its neck regardless, and a flurry of shots from Ronny’s handgun caused the next to collapse in a bloody mess. The split focus of the two remaining lumbering creatures was their downfall; as Nat and Ronny incapacitated the mutants on the right side of the platform, sustained gunfire from Jack’s direction took care of the ones out of sight. Several thumps from falling bodies later, the room was quiet again, aside from the labored breathing of Nat and Ronny. He finally slumped back down and let the handgun clatter to the floor, slide locked back.

“Everything dead up there?” Ronny yelled upwards.

“Everything except me, somehow…” Jack’s response was small, the strain in his voice telling just how close the situation had been to disaster. Ronny was the first to shakily push himself up before offering a hand to Nat. Once standing, they skirted around the counter and came to a stop in the center of the room, looking up at Jack. He was leaning over the third-floor railing with his rifle on his back, sucking wind just as much as they were.

“Good thinkin’ there, Blackjack. You alright?” Nat asked with a hand on her hip.

Jack flipped his wrist over and back again. “Didn’t get shot, at least.”

“Hey bro, you got a little—“ Ronny gestured in a circle around his face, “—on ya.”

“Yeah one of ‘em got a little close and sort of… bled on me. A lot.” He frowned. “You two alright? I heard the explosion.”

Ronny cracked his neck and rotated a shoulder. “Rang the ol’ bell pretty good, but we’re still kickin’.”

Nat slung her rifle over her shoulder and dusted herself down, wondering how long it would take to get her clothes clean again. “So, it looks like we’re clear. Did you see anything on your way up there worth checking out?

Jack titled his chin toward the door he’d come from. “A couple labs over there, not sure what’s inside but hell, this whole place is at least worth a look. I bet I could even strip that first aid robot for parts.”

“Sweet. There’s not much to speak of down here other than the cafeteria, so unless either of you wants a two-hundred-year-old mystery meat sandwich, we should just start upstairs. “

Jack nodded. “Head on up, then, we’ll search down from here—”

He stopped at the sound of heavy paws with sickly overgrown talons thundering across the floor behind him and reached for his rifle. The beast slammed into Jack before he could retaliate, and they both went tumbling over the banister. Nat and Ronny gasped, fearful adrenaline rushing through their systems as Jack hurtled down. The two bodies hit floor with a sickening crack that sent Jack bouncing off to the side, and his rifle went bouncing and skidding across the tile floor. He groaned and writhed as Ronny delivered a shotgun shell into the hound’s head before dropping the weapon and rushing to Jack’s side.

“Jesus, Jack, fuck… Are you alright, is anything broken?”

“I have… no idea…” Broken wheezes were all he could muster as he let his limbs go limp; the energy to do anything else was too great. “Just let me lie here for a couple years.”

Nat patted down Jack’s extremities and pushed out a shaky sigh of relief. “You’ll be OK. Thank god… If I had to tell Piper that you died during a milk run, she would’ve skinned me alive.”

Ronny glanced at her. “She might’ve done that anyway.”

Jack rolled and pushed himself up with the arm not recently involved with a botched base jump and rested in a sitting position. “I think she probably would’ve killed me for _getting_ killed.” He looked at his hand resting in the remains of the mutant hound. “This is really goddamn gross.”

Ronny scoffed. “Now you know how I felt. Come on, man, let’s get what we came for and get gone.” He held out a hand and pulled Jack to his feet.

Nat moved to the staircase in the lobby. “I’ll scout the second-floor rooms. Take your time, Jack.”

He nodded and leaned against a wall. Ronny handed him his canteen.

“Hold still.” As Jack was gulping down the contents of the container, Ronny stuck his shoulder with a stimpak. Jack released a drawn-out sigh through his nose as the combination of cold water and numbing agents flooded his body. He returned the canteen to his friend and stretched. “I’m good, thanks Ron.”

Ronny bumped his other shoulder. “No worries, my man. Now come on, let’s catch up with Nat.”

The two men trudged up the stairs and through the door Nat had used. They found her digging through a medical cart, pulling out drawers and examining the contents. At the sound of footsteps, she pointed to a side table next to a bed.

“Doc said she wanted a respirator, right? That one looks relatively not broken. Ronny, you wanna check the next room?”

Ronny wordlessly complied, and Jack removed his backpack to fit the equipment inside. He helped Nat strip the rest of the room of its goods before the two linked up with Ronny. Room by room they cleared the rest of the floor, finding the occasional dose of Rad-X or Med-X, or a stimpak, along with valuable scrap. If someone had asked Jack if the juice had been worth the squeeze, he wasn’t sure he would say yes.

The third floor yielded more interesting results. Jack yanked open a stuck cabinet door sealed shut from years of disuse to find several small bottles with instructions to administer in cases of poisoning. The labels, even if he could read the entire things, did not appear to indicate which toxins it was meant to combat. Beyond that, Jack was certain he wouldn’t know the difference anyway. “Hey guys, jackpot! I think…”

Nat and Ronny jogged into the room and examined Jack’s finding. “Looks like the best thing we’re gonna find, especially if we don’t really know what those people are sick with.” Nat dug into her bag. “I also took some of the empty IV bags I found, and some isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. All this shit is definitely way past its expiration date, but it’s better than nothing.”

Ronny yawned. “Sweet. Can we get out of here, then? If we stay in this hospital too much longer, I don’t think I’ll ever _stop_ smelling nasty blood and guts.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had enough of this place.”

\---

Nat shifted her body to accommodate the extra weight in her pack, grunting as the straps slid into the crooks of her neck. She looked up. The sun was starting to set; she knew that between hiking back to Country Crossing and having an extra twenty pounds worth of gear, she’d need two showers when she finally got to rest again.

Jack zipped up the main compartment of her bag. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

She waved him off. “I’ll be _fine_ , Jack. There’s plenty of daylight for me to make it back. It’s you that I’m worried about. How’s your arm?”

He rubbed at his bicep with his fingers. “Better. Gonna be sore for a bit, but it’ll be OK. I’ve got Ronny here in case I need someone to use as bait, too.”

Ronny punched his shoulder with a smirk. “Asshole.”

Nat smiled at her nephew and his friend. They were pains in the ass, but they were good kids, and a good team. She had faith in them. “Where are you guys planning on stopping?”

Jack shrugged. “Depends how far we got before nightfall, and even then, if the conditions are good, we might keep going.”

“Alright, I’m going to head out, then.” She enveloped Jack in a hug. “Stay safe, Jacky. And say hi to our friend for me, and that I’m sorry I couldn’t make it!”

“He might be pretty disappointed, but he’ll understand.”

“You still haven’t told me who this guy is, Jack.” Ronny cut in.

Nat chuckled. “You’ll see. He’s a real sweetheart once you get to know him.”

Ronny deadpanned. “Does he got a name?”

“He’ll make sure you know it as soon as you meet him, trust me. Just make sure Jack doesn’t let him kill ya, and you’ll be fine.”

“Uhm… alright, I guess…”

Jack rolled his eyes. “He won’t _kill_ Ronny.”

Nat shrugged. “If you say so, Jack. Just make sure he knows what he’s in for at some point.” She turned to leave, casting a wave back at them. “Till next time, boys!”

Jack turned to his friend. “We’ve probably got two or three hours till it gets dark. You ready?”

“Always.”

They started on the road northwest, leaving behind the decrepit hospital newly christened with death to sit idle once more. The automated light over the front entrance, not sensing any more motion, turned off, leaving the area as quiet as it had been when they’d arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never sure how well my action scenes come across, so let me know what you thought!


End file.
